


Guardian Angel

by BleakCinema



Series: Guardian Angel [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Character Study, Discussion of Abortion, Hoosier Daddy, M/M, Mating, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Physical Abuse, slightly AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-27 00:12:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7595728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BleakCinema/pseuds/BleakCinema
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before the blast went off in Zurich, before their world went to hell in a hand basket, Angela Ziegler made Gabriel a promise.  Once a year, she endeavors to keep it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guardian Angel

The deep thrum of the transport’s engines faded to a high whine as it neared the ground, dorsal hover-pads straining to create the lightest touchdown possible for the oversized craft.  The drone of it drifted up into the late evening heat baking up off the Indiana flatlands under a late summer sun.  The grass beneath it flattened out beneath the machine, accommodating, and the whole thing began to power down until its throaty grumbles were little more than latent purrs.

 

A beast of burden gone dormant.

 

It seemed out of place, the unmarked craft sitting out in the middle of bum fuck nowhere, places where some folks had yet to even upgrade to hovercars and still puttered about on four wheels.  There was nothing out here for miles, the nearest farm a good ways off.  The beetling craft sat alone, heat mirages clouding up around it as it hummed to life just long enough for the small bay door to open, allowing its only passenger to step out.

 

Angela Ziegler stepped down and stood there beneath the waning rays of the Indiana sun, hair a cascade of fly-away gold where it tumbled down her shoulders in a careless ponytail.  Out here, far from the reach of strife and struggle, she had abandoned the Valkyrie Swift-Response suit in favour of a far more casual blouse tucked neatly into a pair of dark slacks.  The sun warmed the cream tones of the modest shirt, casting her all over in a welcoming glow.  She stood for a moment in repose, casting her eye over the waving sea of tall grass long gone brassy under the eye of the summertime, hearing nothing but the susurration of the wind over the plains.  It smelled fresh here, like a place where time and tide could not reach.  It always did, no matter how many times she made the journey.

 

Behind her, Athena’s inoffensive alto crooned, “Dr. Ziegler, the autopilot will be rerouting to the rendezvous point in five minutes.  Will you be alright?”

 

“Ja, thank you, Athena.  I will be alright.  Do remind Winston I will return in two days.”

 

“As per usual, Dr. Ziegler?”

 

Angela could hardly help the tiny, fond expression that curled the edge of her lip, “As per usual, Athena.”

 

“I will employ full confidentiality protocols.”

 

The craft behind her powered up once more preparing to depart as programmed.  Angela tuned the noise out, eyes on the endless horizon as she waited serenely.  She had no fear of being abandoned in this place.  She never had been.  Not once in the 10 years she’d been venturing out here alone.  The day she was left alone in this field was a day she had far larger things to be concerned with than herself.

 

In no more than ten minutes was her patience rewarded when she spied the tell-tale curl of dust kicking up in a winding path in the distance.  Her smile grew and she felt herself rocking forward onto the balls of her feet ever so slightly as if that alone would allow her to see more.  Soon, the harsh complaints of an engine long over-stressed drifted on the wind with the dust and it was music to her ears.  Taking a chance with her timing she raised her long-fingered hand high and was delighted when she was met with a braying honk.  She laughed at the sound, the poor old thing sounding worse and worse every year.  Soon, a white truck so coated with muck it had gone a scratched up dun colour was visible through the swaying grass and the clinging cloud that boiled up around it, new enough to hover, but old enough that it only did so on a hope and a prayer these days.

 

The nattering old monster of a vehicle snarled up to her pulling alongside at such a distance that it wouldn’t throw any of the cloying dust up onto her neat clothing, a young man leaning one arm out the window as he craned to see her excitedly.

 

Seeing him always knocked something motherly loose in Angela, leaving it to rattle around in her ribcage like a high-spirited bird.  This year was even more devastating than the last as he grinned up at her broad as a cheshire cat, all white teeth and mischief and so incredibly earnest that she felt a pang.  He was a lean young man, gone toned from no doubt hours of farm work out here.  His skin was the palest shade of cinnamon, the colour of horchata, smudged here and there with dirt.  Hair the colour of chocolate was yanked into a short, messy ponytail at the back of his head, rebellious almost-curls escaping here and there and a bit of stubble shadowed his chin, highlighting the angles of his face.

 

He was a striking young man, but it was always the eyes that got her; more blue than a cloudless sky.  

 

“Miss Angie, as I live and breathe!” he declared with unbridled happiness, his accent a mutt thing of the Midwest and places far more equatorial.

 

He reached across and shoved her door open with his foot before going to pick up the single case she’d brought along with her.

 

Angela spoke with deep warmth when she said, “You’re a little late this year.”

 

He laughed and shrugged one shoulder, chagrinned, “You know me, Miss Angie.  My timing’s always been a little bit off.”

 

Truer words had never been spoken.

 

__________

 

_ Gabriel let out a warning growl as the door to their shared quarters hissed shut, trying to get the hick’s attention as John “Jack” Morrison tried to bully him back towards the bed, “You’d better fucking lock that, Cabron.  Alpha or not, somebody walks in and gets an eyeful? I will beat the shit out of you.” _

 

_ All he got in return was a low whine of need as his alpha nosed at the scent points along his throat, yet unmarked, totally lost to the world.  Gabriel felt his temper rise, his jaw clenching as he fought to stay under control long enough to not be a spectacle for every asshole on this base.  He had precious little time left before Jack’s rut triggered a heat in him and his instincts were already bridling at the very idea of being caught helpless once both of them were too overwhelmed by mating to defend themselves.  It didn’t matter that there were in their home base, safely tucked away in Switzerland, surrounded by allies.  Gabriel was a soldier and his paranoid instincts multiplied ten-fold when overwhelmed by his defensive Omega impulses. _

 

_ Jack’s sharp, clever teeth nipped at the hinge of his jaw, perilously close to where he might land a bonding bite.  It drew a gasp out of the older man, a bit of slick dampening his boxer briefs as his treacherous body started to give way to the Alpha pheromones that were already inundating his every sense.  Hell, he could practically taste them.  Feeling his time running as thin as his patience, Gabriel snatched at Jack’s face and laid a kiss on him that was more teeth than lips, getting his Alpha’s attention. _

 

_ Blue eyes looked up at him in a lustful haze and Gabriel manipulated a bit further, rubbing the rough edge of his scruff along Jack’s jawline, breaking the kiss and letting the other man get a noseful of his persuasive scent.  He purred, dark as a panther, in his chest. _

 

_ “I’m unmated and you’re sending me into heat, idiot.  Lock the door unless you want company.” _

 

_ Not that ‘company’ meant much.   _

 

_ Mated or not, they lived in a civilized society and it wasn’t like Omegas were just up for grabs any more than an Alpha was.  It was just the Right.  Little.  Push.  Just enough to see something possessive and feral and altogether NOT ‘bright penny’ Morrison flash in the blonde’s eyes.  The growl Jack made then was practically sub-sonic, more sensation than sound and it sent heat right down between Gabe’s legs, made him want to show his belly and lay himself open for the HELL of a ride the younger man was going to give him for this.   _

 

_ Those teeth again, scraping against the quivering jump of his excited pulse as Jack murmured, all hot breath and sharp edges, right up on the thin skin of his throat, “Clothes off.  Bed.  Now.” _

 

_ An unrepentant, hard-nosed son of a bitch to the end, Gabriel Reyes snarked, “Hands and knees, hm, chico de oro?” _

 

_ “No,” Jack said, low, as he pulled away, turning his back on the other man long enough to thumb the lock, “I wanna see your face when I’ve got your blood on my teeth.” _

 

_ He was so far gone that hick accent of his had gone gruff and become an altogether different animal.  Gabriel would be a liar if he said it didn’t do fucking SHAMEFUL things to his knees to hear that sound.  Playing it off with machismo, his usual MO, he stripped off his plain black uniform shirt, revealing inch after inch of dark skin, taunting Overwatch’s little golden boy. _

 

_ “I got a choice in that?” _

 

_ That seemed to get to his would-be mate, the other man’s thumb hovering over the lock he had just activated, unsure.  Gabriel was fascinated.  He could see the muscles tremble in that powerful hand that had taken lives and could put him on the mat on a bad day of sparring.  He could see the control Jack was willing back into the situation, the man overcoming the turmoil of rut just enough to speak again, voice like gravel. _

 

_ “Jesus, Gabi.  If you want out, you’d better say so now or be ready to put me on the ground.  Not sure how much I can still hold back, but I ain’t going to force you.” _

 

_ The older man swore low in heated Spanish, a tangle of words and fierce intent.  He and Morrison had been dancing around this for ages.  It was only the decorum required of their standing in the organization, way too much damn pride, a healthy dose of trust issues, and a hearty unwillingness on Gabriel’s part to be someone’s sexual chew toy that had stayed their hands over the years.  It was only Jack’s untimely rut that had forced the issue, their cycles thrown into disarray by all the treatments from the SEP, unpredictable and sporadic.   _

 

_ Here was Jack, so desperate in a rut that he could barely stand straight (a condition that could turn a weak Alpha into a snarling moron in an hour), but still having enough respect for Gabriel to give him a damn out.  Treating him like a partner, not a handy receptacle.  It softened the LA native’s razor edges and knocked a bit of the sass right out of him. _

 

_ With an arrogant smirk, Gabriel undid his belt and let his uniform trousers fall, “Don’t give me that shit, Jack.  You’d chew your own fucking arm off before you touched me without my permission.  Now get over here.” _

 

_ He slipped out of his black boxer briefs last, tossing them without a care as he sat himself down on the edge of the bed, leaning back on his elbows and letting Jack catch a glimpse of his body’s natural lubrication slicking his thighs.  Blue, blue eyes raked over every inch of his muscled form and it was enough to set his skin on fire with power knowing HE had done that to Jack.  In the same breath, having that laser-focused desire focused only on him was humbling him down to his very bones.  As Jack prowled up to him, his heart thundered and he was caught between wanting to raise his chin, all regal bravado, and baring his throat in submission for his lover’s teeth and lips. _

 

_ Jack’s own heart pounded, sending his blood racing beneath his pale skin until a rosy flush of arousal raced across the angular places where bone pressed into skin.  He was practically panting, his cock a line of agony and need in his trousers, thudding along with his heartbeat.  He was frozen in time, torn between never taking his eyes off of the fierce predator that was giving itself into his mastery and sinking into that hot place between his yielding thighs like an animal.  Reverent, he reached out and pressed his thumb down over one nipple, feeling the muscle beneath it, the vibrations of Gabriel’s moan. _

 

_ In his feral hind-brain, his Alpha nature hissed in triumph at the strong, receptive mate it had found.  Their pups would be worthy of envy and the Omega would bear them well. _

 

_ Barely able to breathe around the heat racing over their flesh like wildfire, Gabriel and Jack both fought with fumbling fingers to rid the Alpha of his clothing.  The sound of a seam ripping on his boxers as they were man-handled off was far away, in another world where paltry niceties mattered.  All that mattered here and now was Jack pushing his mate back against the mattress, gripping his thighs and pulling his legs apart until he could settle against the cradle of his pelvis, feel the flex of powerful legs on either side of him that could reasonably do him very real damage if they so chose.  The thrill of danger licked up Jack’s spine and he pressed a hand down against his lover’s belly. _

 

_ He let himself snarl, “Mine”. _

 

_ Before he could blink, the older man tapped him with a warning slap on the cheek before settling gun-calloused fingers around his throat, “No, amante.  You’re MINE.” _

 

_ With that, he tugged his Alpha down into a savage kiss, both of them panting into one another and warring for dominance even though, in his heart of hearts, Jack knew he had already lost to this fierce, beautiful Omega he had fought alongside.  He braced himself with one hand next to the other man’s head, reaching down with the other hand to touch the tightly furled ring of muscle covered in slick hidden between Gabriel’s cheeks.  He tested the give and rumbled in his chest when he was able to press two fingers in from the outset, his lover only hissing in slight discomfort and even greater desire.  He’d never been with an Omega before...had no idea that he’d be welcomed in so easily.  Feeling the urge to breed overwhelming his good sense, he thrust his fingers in sharply, listening to Gabriel keen. _

 

_ “Is it...always like this?” _

 

_ Gabriel laughed harshly around his gasping, “Tan inocente! You think I let every Alpha with a rut and an excuse on top of me?” _

 

_ Letting nature guide him, Jack added a third finger, watching his lover squirm, “So, no one else?” _

 

_ “Not like this,” the other affirmed before a bit of bite was back in his tone, Gabriel Reyes not a creature to be tamed for long, “Mierda, Jack, I can take you as I am now.  Either get inside me or I will flip you over and that’s not what EITHER of us wants right now.” _

 

_ He did, however, note the piqued expression on Jack’s face.  Not what they wanted now, but definitely something to keep for later. _

 

_ It almost took him by surprise when he felt the blood-hot head of Jack’s manhood butting up against his entrance and he looked up, caught by the bluest eyes again.  Obligingly, he wrapped his legs around the jut of his mate’s hips, opening himself up fully and feeling that first forceful push sink into him.  The burn was everything he hadn’t known he needed until this moment, as if Jack was carving out a place for himself inside of his body, pushing in more and more.  He didn’t coddle Gabriel, knew he could take it and take it and take it.  For his part, the Omega dug his nails into Jack’s shoulders, clinging to the meat of them, the heat of his lover deep inside of him and on top of him and overwhelming him.  They never broke eye contact, even when the steady push threatened to wash away all the sense he had remaining. _

 

_ Jack let out a soft grunt as he bottomed out, his hips cupping up against his mate’s backside as if they were made for each other.  The notion drew a chesty growl from him and he snapped his hips before he could stop himself, pinning the Omega with his gaze. _

 

_ Gabriel let out a strangled cry, his back arching at the roughness and almost immediately he felt Jack coming back to himself, realizing what he’d done and backing off.  Oh, hell no.  He tightened his legs around the other man’s hips, digging his heels into the taut rise of his ass and pulling him back in.  He tipped his head back, exposing his neck and looking at Jack from beneath his lashes. _

 

_ “I want all you’ve got.  Like sparring.  Like war.  Partners.” _

 

_ Heart clenching at the words, Jack Morrison gave up his last tenuous thread of control and lowered his teeth to Gabe’s neck, to that sensitive spot near where shoulder met his throat, holding him in place while he began to thrust.  He threw the full weight of his enhanced muscles behind every snap of his hips, feeling as much as hearing the punched out noises he wrenched from his mate.  Sweat coated them both in a fine sheen as he worked inside of Gabriel, the sound of their skin slapping together echoing around their bunk like a feedback loop.  Jack felt hands leaving his shoulders threading up into his blonde hair and yanking enough to hurt, to add another layer onto the symphony of sensation.  He dug his teeth in harder, the first drops of blood welling around his canines. _

 

_ “Come on, I want your knot,” Gabriel moaned deeply as he arched his back on a particularly deep thrust. _

 

_ He could already feel the stretch of it pulling at his rim. _

 

_ Jack’s hips pistoned into him, the slick sounds between them unmistakable and filthy as he built higher and higher to his peak.  The urge to finish the bonding bite was growing stronger with every passing second along with his knot, desperate to claim the powerful Omega who had chosen him.   _

 

_ Seeking to distract Gabe from the pain, Jack lifted one hand from where he was bracketing his lover’s head, reaching down between them until his hot palm rested on the older man’s twitching belly.  Angling the heel of his hand down, he pressed hard and circled his palm as he thrust in hard, aiming for that little bundle of nerves that he knew would set off fireworks in Gabriel.  By the sounds his mate made when he did, he’d hit the target as unerringly as in combat, battering the sensitive gland from outside and in.  He bit down in that moment, fully breaking the skin. _

 

_ Distantly, Jack felt teeth sink into the opposite side of his neck, the pain electric and white hot and absolutely nothing compared to the sensation of Gabriel squeezing down around him in climax with a thready whine.  His knot swelled, locking him into the Omega underneath him as he pumped him full of his seed.  He was very nearly washed away on a sea of sensation, save for that he kept his promise.  He raised his head, teeth bloody and head pounding from the bonding, in time to lock eyes with Gabriel, both of them completely lost in each other even while their muscles overloaded, locked, and finally gave in to rest. _

 

_ *** _

 

_ Later, much later, Jack lay quiet and docile against the robust musculature of Gabe’s chest, content to let the older man run fingers through his hair as if petting a particularly beloved dog.  Every once in awhile he would nuzzle up against the skin around the cleaned bonding bite, feeling his own throb in sympathy.  Every time it earned an affectionate rumble from the lounging super soldier beneath him, teasing him endlessly about his altogether submissive nature for an Alpha still in rut. _

 

_ “Everyone will think you are the Omega, chico de oro,” he snarked, tweaking the end of Jack’s nose. _

 

_ It only earned him a lazy swat, the other super soldier content to stay pliant on his chest while he hummed, “Don’t give a shit.  We’re partners.” _

 

_ For once, Gabriel didn’t have anything smart to say in response.  He settled for putting an arm around the pale man’s shoulders and rubbing a circle into the wing of his scapula with a thumb.  It was a moment almost too intimate, a sentiment too tender, even considering what they had just done.  He cleared his throat, aiming for bravado again. _

 

_ “Thank fuck for military issue birth control, huh?” _

 

_ He’d never been more grateful than when Jack let him get away with it, just mumbling a complacent, “Thank fuck”. _

 

__________

 

The landscape rolled by the windows of the truck, the windows down to accommodate for a busted up AC that the boy had apologized profusely for.  Angela watched him as he drove back towards civilization, the wind from the open window catching his curls and raking fingers through her own hair.  She took in everything that had changed about him in the year she’d been away, how he’d grown, how he’d filled out from the farm work, how the sun had chased freckles across the bridge of his nose.  She noted what had stayed the same as well, little things like how he tapped his left hand against the wheel, always too full of energy and not nearly enough patience.  He still sang quietly in Spanish to himself to fill up the silences.  The moving joint in his wrists still drew her eye, small hints of his strong bone structure near the surface.

 

She watched his fingers drum against the wheel full of constant, ticking intensity..  

 

Now, she wouldn’t call Ira a full-fledged fidget.  No, he could sit as still as she needed him to, obedient to her orders when she was conducting his annual check up.  But there were always little tics that registered, tiny tremors that telegraphed how much he hated inactivity.  His fingers would tap every once in awhile or he’d roll his shoulders back sporadically as if the coiled energy was gathering there and he had no choice but to cast it off.  He liked a busy mind and busy hands, having a purpose for every part of him.  It amused her no end to see that much of Jack lived in him, that he’d inherited more from his father than those painfully blue eyes and a moral compass permanently set to north.

 

Jack had never known what to do with helpless energy either.

 

She was so caught up in watching his hands that she only absently let her eyes drift upward.  Closer like this, it was almost impossible to miss the purplish ring around his eye.

 

It was faint enough it could have been fatigue were it not going very slightly yellow at the edges.  Angela Ziegler knew a black eye when she saw one and it put her nerves on edge to see him sporting one.  Eyes were delicate, the bones around them could do so much damage if the right amount of force was applied.  Her brain went over all the horrible ways an injury like that could go wrong and she smoothed her hands neatly over her lap to hide her worry.

 

“Ira,” she put on the tone that could still cow McCree into complying with whatever she said, “Have you been fighting?”

 

He flinched, his shoulders drawing a little tighter and his mouth pulling down.  It put a stone in Angela’s belly.  

 

Ira put a grin on for her, lopsided and bright, but not nearly as earnest as before, and turned to look at her as much as he could while still keeping his eyes on the road, “Miss Angie, it’s nothing to worry about.”

 

“That was not my question,” she reminded him, her accent curt and crisp.

 

Something dark flitted across the blue of his eyes, troubled, before he let the grin go and shrugged one shoulder, “Some guys were talking shit, pardon the language.”

 

Sympathy welled in the good doctor, “About your parents?”

 

“About mom.”

 

She reached out with one hand, gentle as a spring breeze, and touched the rounded muscle of his shoulder, “I’m sorry, Ira.  I know it’s terrible to hear these things about the people you love.”

 

Angela didn’t even have to ask what was said.  The refrain was old by now.

 

He didn’t shake her off, turning his eyes back to the road and snorting, “It’s been 10 years and he’s dead.  At least they let up on dad after he was killed and everyone decided he was a hero.  I get so sick of it.  It’s  _ puta mierda _ the things they say about someone they never knew.”

 

“You know, I was around your mother long enough to know what that means.”

 

The young man pinked a little around the ears, caught, and leaned back into his seat, looking recalcitrant.

 

He had so much of his father in him.

 

She sighed a little and turned her attention to that bruise again, “...Who swung first, Ira?”

 

The ghost of his mother stared Angela Ziegler in the face as the young man set his jaw stubbornly and  refused to speak, letting his silence answer for him.  It seems his father wasn’t the only one he took after.  For all that both of his parents were hard to get on with at times, that temper belonged to one man and one man alone.

 

__________

 

_ Jack had definitely not considered when he woke up this morning that he’d be physically shielding a Security Council Liaison from a singularly furious Gabriel Reyes. _

 

_ “You want to run that by me again?” his mate said in a tone that suggested the liaison should definitely not ‘run it by him again’. _

 

_ The Beta adjusted her glasses primly as if there wasn’t a raging Omega looking ready to take her throat out with his teeth, “I understand that this must be distressing for you in your current state - and I do assure you that you have the utmost sympathy of the Security Council - but in light of your position and its import on a global scale, we are suggesting termination.” _

 

_ “Suggesting,” Reyes spat. _

 

_ “Very strongly suggesting.  A pregnant Strike Commander is a Strike Commander with divided priorities.  Hence why even Overwatch operatives are required to be on the strictest birth control regimens available.  It was a tragic oversight that we failed to take into account the quirks of your unique biological make-up after the SEP.” _

 

_ Jack tightened his grip on his mate’s bicep, and not entirely to hold him back.  Guilt clawed up his throat, oily and slick.  He’d noticed a week or two ago that Gabriel had seemed sluggish for lack of a better word.  He’d been sick frequently, damn near impossible given the state of their immune systems.  It had scared Jack and he wasn’t too proud to admit it.  He’d driven himself half insane with poorly constructed conspiracy theories about people trying to poison the Strike Commander from within their own stronghold even while Gabriel cursed him for a fool and swore at him colorfully.  Jack had let his overprotectiveness get in the way of his good sense.  After all, in front of the team, Gabe was a consummate professional...as much as the man could be with the sarcasm and the poorly reigned in violence.  He’d been prepared to soldier on until whatever the hell it was passed and left him be, too busy to give a shit if he was falling apart. _

 

_ It had been Jack who insisted.  It had been the Alpha who had nagged and prodded and lectured until at last his mate went simply to avoid another fight, Jack dogging his heels to Angela’s clinic. _

 

_ “Just to shut him up” Gabriel had said then. _

 

_ It hadn’t even taken half an hour for Angela to seal their fates, looking over them both with something akin to wonder, her blunted nails tapping away at a data pad as she mulled over the possibilities.  Pregnant, she had told them then.  Pregnant.  It had been a one in a million shot and a fluke side-effect of the SEP that had done it.  At the time, Angela had been too warmed by the miracle of the science that was their bodies to consider the weight of it, Jack had been too floored, and Gabe had been too busy christening a bin with what they now knew to call ‘morning sickness’.   _

 

_ None of them had realized the road they’d started down.   _

 

_ Angela was, of course, obligated to inform the top brass of Gabriel’s medical condition, but only as a matter of formality and acknowledgment of the chain of command.  None of the three of them at the time had suspected it would be anything more than an inconvenience, something that would take the Strike Commander off his feet for a month or two nearing the end, if that.  Jack would likely take on some of his duties as the senior officer, and then things would settle back to normal.  They had plenty of non-combatant friends within Overwatch who could mind a child while they saw to their duties.  For now, Angela would at least report that Gabe was pregnant and they’d deal with the more in-depth medical work later. _

 

_ None of the three had anticipated it would lead to the Security Council quietly and covertly attempting to order the Strike Commander of Overwatch to abort that one in a million shot less than a week later. _

 

_ All because Jack had pushed. _

 

_ At this point, Gabriel was holding him up as much as he was holding the other soldier back.  He hated himself all over again when he realized he wa the Alpha and he couldn’t bring himself to argue with the Beta, with her cool words and emotionless gaze down her nose...because she outranked him.  He was letting his Omega fight for their child’s life because he’d been too well trained to just let go of that chain of command he’d practically hanged them both with.   _

 

_ The Omega in question was perfectly still, a low, protective growl rumbling on repeat in the depths of his broad chest.  He wasn’t lunging anymore, hadn’t since Jack had stepped between them, but the threat was very real.  Jack had once watched Gabriel dent a metal support with an Omnic’s face.  He didn’t even want to imagine what those hands would do if he got a hold of that frail little Beta. _

 

_ “I expect you to FULLY discuss your options with Dr. Ziegler, Strike Commander Reyes,” her tone indicated that there was only one choice, driving it home with the emphasis on his title, making it a weapon in her mouth. _

 

_ She made to depart, though Jack noted she took the long way around the room’s conference table, giving his mate a wide berth, “I’ll expect to hear from the good doctor in 48 hours or less, gentlemen.” _

 

_ She stood with her hand on the door pad, her tone assured that she would be obeyed, “Again...our condolences.” _

 

_ Jack couldn’t even bring himself to chastise Gabriel for breaking a chair once the woman was gone, venting his spleen and his grief.   _

 

_ *** _

 

_ In the clinic that night, Angela had surprised them both when she said, “Terminating a fetus is typically strongly frowned upon outside of the 12 week mark.  Morning sickness commonly begins in the sixth week.  Commonly.   Typically.  Gabriel, I would be willing to make it my medical opinion to the Security Council that between your unique biology and time, it’s too late to abort.  You and Jack are neither common nor typical.” _

 

_ Jack didn’t dare speak.  His heart ached at the sudden possibility, but he didn’t dare.  His pushing, and prodding, and coercing had put his mate in this position.  It was nowhere near his place to dictate his choice now.   _

 

_ Reyes pinned her with a sloe-eyed stare, serious as death, “You don’t even know how far along I am yet, Angela.” _

 

_ The Swiss doctor looked back at him, unafraid of Gabriel Reyes and his prodigious temper, her spine as steel as her heart was soft, “I do not need to know.” _

 

_ The Omega leaned forward where he sat on her examination table, pointer finger tapping on the cushion and still managing to make a sharp sound, “We’d be playing a fucking game of roulette with the UN and my body.  Kid comes out too late and they’ll know.” _

 

_ “Then I shall say I made a mistake.  I will say that 48 hours is not nearly enough time to have taken into account all of the variables of super soldier physiology and anomalies were only discovered later,” she didn’t waver, “For all we yet know, this is the truth.” _

 

_ The Strike Commander snorted, “Or you could examine me right now, figure out that I AM only six or seven weeks and well within the acceptable window for a termination, and we get this over with.” _

 

_ “I could,” she said back, mild and without challenge. _

 

_ It took the wind right out of Gabe’s sails, nothing to dig his teeth into, nothing to fight against.  Only a choice.  He looked to his mate, feeling slightly bewildered.  He moved forward through conflict and peace had always baffled him slightly. _

 

_ Jack could only shrug one shoulder, no longer second in command, but a humble Alpha from out of Indiana just wanting to support the man he’d claimed, “I landed us in this mess, Gabe.  If I’d just let you be we really would be past the deadline.” _

 

_ “Tch, shut up.  The worst thing you did was stick your dick in me and then worry too much.  I didn’t ask for your pity party.  All you need to do for me right now is look me in the eye and tell me you can handle fibbing to the Big Boys.  I’m not going to embarrass us both by asking if you’re ready to be a papa.  I bet you came out of your mama telling ‘dad jokes’.” _

 

_ It actually startled a small laugh out of Jack and he hopped up onto the table, finally daring to get in his Omega’s space and resting his hand on top of Gabriel’s, “Just a matter of which brass I choose to follow.  You’re my Strike Commander after all.  Where you lead, I follow.” _

 

_ Gabriel had grinned at him, shark-like, and tangled their fingers.  In that moment, Jack felt like he could face anything. _

 

_ *** _

 

_ They’d made it through by the skin of their teeth, Angela’s word enough to earn Gabriel what amounted to an executive level shrug. _

 

_ At least they’d been allowed to think so, but the Council? They never quite got around to forgetting the insubordination even though it had been forgiven in the moment. _

 

_ A keen reminder came when Gabriel was removed as Strike Commander.  He was placed at the head of a covert ops team called Blackwatch, so appointed for his ‘faultless ability to employ obfuscation tactics to achieve the most satisfactory outcomes’.  It was as good as a slap in the face, but one done so demurely that as far as politics went, Jack and Gabe’s hands were tied.  Then came the moment when Jack’s words on that table in Angela’s lab had bitten him square in the ass and he was appointed Strike Commander.   _

 

_ Gabe was now leading where he couldn’t follow. _

 

__________

 

“Miss Angie?”

 

Ira’s voice disturbed Angela from her reverie.  She shook herself, blinking and taking in the pastures that had sprung up while she was lost in her memories.  Here and there along the countryside were long rows of fences that hadn’t seen a fresh coat of paint in at least a decade, the reds and greens peeling away to reveal weathered wood beneath.  The town this farming community depended on was still miles away and they’d never reach it.  Ira had grown up here, safely in the middle of nowhere, only leaving to spend winter breaks with what remained of his mother’s family in LA.

 

She touched a hand to her brow and sighed, “Just old memories.  I’m sorry.”

 

“Overwatch days?”

 

Her smile was rueful, “Is it ever not?”

 

“They were good days,” he said softly, reaching up to touch the bruise around his eye, far too young to sound so wistful.

 

“You sound like an old soldier,” she teased him.

 

He offered her a half-bashful grin, shaking out of his melancholy.

 

“Ah, but you are right.  They were good days.  When everyone was still together,” She pressed her lips tight around adding ‘for the first time’.

 

“It was only 10 years, but they were great.  Switzerland was beautiful,” he laughed a bit, “And Mr. Reinhardt was always so nice…Hey, do you ever see him?”

 

“Sometimes,” Angela told him fondly before clapping her hands together, “Oh! Do you still have that silly hat McCree gave you before he left? The stetson?”

 

“You ask that every year, Miss Angie,” Ira grinned and reached behind the seat of his truck to pull out the battered, well loved thing with one hand.

 

He ran a thumb adoringly over the brim before adding, “...Heard his bounty went up again.”

 

“...Not all of us did so well after Overwatch, I am afraid,” the medic said in subdued tones.

 

Angela turned in time to see the tense downturn in one corner of Ira’s mouth, tucked away where he thought she couldn’t see it.  It was Jack if she’d ever seen it, not good enough at controlling his emotions to keep from showing them, yet conscious enough to try and hide them (though he lacked skill there too).  Her eyes trailed up his face once again to the purpling around his eye.  She wondered how old it was, how severe the initial blow had been.

 

“Ira, how are you doing?”

 

He ran a hand under his nose, rough and careless and trying to hide his mouth as he straightened his expression back out, “Medical questions already, doc? I thought the genetic anomaly guessing game didn't start until we got to the house.”

 

The bitterness in that surprised her, but she knew better than to indulge the mercurial funks he’s inherited from his parents, “Coy is not a flattering colour on you, child.  How are you  _ really _ ?”

 

“...I miss everyone,” he began reluctantly, never terribly good about talking about his feelings, “ I miss everything.  I only had my parents for 10 years and I still miss them worse than everything else.  I miss the way Mom always looked angry for no reason at all until Dad walked in.  I miss the way Dad could never quite get the hang of Spanish.  I guess I just miss them being there and I really hate that all these people who talk think they knew them.”

 

“Is that why you started the fight?”

 

“I didn’t start it,” he snapped sharply before seeming to recall who he was talking to and softened, “...I just finished it.”

 

Visions of red visors and scars deep enough to have killed a normal man swam in front of Angela’s mind’s eye before, the words familiar in deeper tones.

 

“They called him a monster,” Ira muttered low, “Just because they read some of the old Blackwatch reports off the ‘net, they know everything about my mom.  Look, I’m not going to lie.  I know things weren’t...good...by the end, but that was just the end.  That wasn’t everything my parents were…”

  
  


Angela smoothed her hands over her lap and thought carefully, letting memory guide her, “...Gabriel Reyes was…a deeply troubled man by the time the Fall came, yes.  The conditions in Blackwatch were not an ideal environment for his already fractious mannerisms.  I have always believed...always thought that the things he saw and had to do hardened him, de-stabilized the peace your father had helped cultivate in him.”

 

“PTSD?” Ira ventured, brushing a dark curl from his face.

 

“After a fashion.  Ira...I will never lie to you and tell you that your mother was not capable of truly dark things, but at heart, he was a good man.”

 

That was why, even after everything, she’d fought so hard to save him.  There had been a time when she had imagined him lost, had seen too many truly horrible fights with Jack, had read too many reports, had heard too much from McCree….but one night had reminded her that humanity still lived in Gabriel Reyes.

 

__________

 

_ It was nearing 1:00am when Angela finally left her clinic, not to rest, but to seek coffee.  She still had some last minute diagnostic analysis to review with Genji’s latest systems upgrade before she’d contemplate bed.  Her friends and teammates came first, especially the ones she had made herself beholden to.  Saving a life wasn’t a heroic act that, once done, could be shuffled aside and forgotten.  It was a responsibility one shouldered, especially in the case of the younger, reformed Shimada. _

 

_ She did love this hour of the morning, when almost everything was still and calm.  These twilight hours were for her and her thoughts alone, a chance for her busy mind to relax. _

 

_ Stepping into the mess hall, she very nearly froze when she found it was not as abandoned as she had imagined.  Sitting there at the furthest table from the center of the room, hidden half in shadow where one of the harsh flourescents was on its last legs, sat Gabriel.  His beanie was pulled low and his shoulders were slumped inwards as if to shield himself from a body-blow.  His hands were knotted on the table in front of him and he radiated exhaustion so deep he almost looked ill.  It was the first time Angela had seen him without having to look after Ira while his parents slowly approached critical mass.  She’d come to be wary of the man Reyes had become, so far a cry from the person he’d been as Strike Commander. _

 

_ Seeing him like this, though? It softened her and she let her footfalls be heard so as not to startle him. _

 

_ He barely lifted his head. _

 

_ “Was wondering when you’d come in.” _

 

_ It took her off her guard, “You were waiting for me?” _

 

_ “Won’t take up much of your time.  Just have some news and a favor to ask.  Well, me and Jack both have a favor to ask.” _

 

_ Forgetting her misgivings entirely, Angela settled into a chair at his right hand, “The news?” _

 

_ “Me’n Jack are sending Ira away for a bit...just until we can sort our shit out.  Kid doesn’t need to be around us with this whole Petras Act thing in the works and with how Jack and I are fighting.  Once...things have settled out, we’ll go get him and be a family again.” _

 

_ Angela was stunned, “You decided to send Ira away now?” _

 

_ “Nah, Jack suggested it.  Then I almost put his head through a wall,” he gripped his hands a bit tighter around each other on the table top, “then I thought about it and just...fuck, Angela.  I’m a time bomb right now.  When I’m not angry, I’m tired, and when I’m not tired, I’m angry.  Not to mention all the shit Blackwatch has done is getting around.  None of that exactly equals kid-friendly atmosphere.” _

 

_ “...Where will he go?” _

 

_ “Jack’s still got a sister back in Indiana.  It’s quiet out there.  News travels slow.  We send him out there for a vacation with his aunt until everything settles,” Reyes sounded wrung out. _

 

_ He wasn’t a man who talked about his emotions, preferring a hefty dose of ‘get on with it’ to any sort of soul-baring discussion.  That he was telling Angela any of this was a mark of trust for certain, and likely a hallmark of severe mental fatigue.  She regarded this moment as the ephemeral gift that it was, a fleeting show of what shreds of humanity were left in the beleaguered Omega. _

 

_ “And the favor?” she prompted gently. _

 

_ “There’s talk of jail time and right now there are two necks on the chopping block.  If this shit DOESN’T settle for any reason, keep an eye on Ira for us.  We still don’t know how the SEP enhancements are going to wash as he gets older...and you’ve been his doctor since he was born,” Gabriel’s mouth was twisted with regret. _

 

_ The request was like a bombshell to Angela’s tender heart.  Since the very instant he’d known Ira was on the way, Gabriel had been fiercely overprotective.  The incident with the Security Council liaison was the tip of the proverbial iceberg.  Nobody messed with his precious only child and Gabriel tended to get snappish when situations required he be away from the little boy for too long.  As a professional and a soldier, he made due on long assignments, but when he got back, even Jack had to step aside to give the older man bonding time with Ira.  That he was acquiescing to his mate’s request to willingly deprive themselves of their son for such an indeterminate amount of time… _

 

_ “What brought all this on so suddenly…” she kept her voice soft and unthreatening. _

 

_ The allegations weren’t new, nor was the threat.  It had been looming for weeks, if not months. _

 

_ The Blackwatch Commander’s lip curled up and he looked away with a snort, “He saw me go for Jack.”  He held up a hand to forestall any questions, “Doesn’t matter why I did it.  What matters is Ira came back to our quarters with Winston in time to see me deck his daddy hard enough I rattled his teeth.  Fuck me, Angie, but I didn’t know you could watch a heart breaking.” _

 

_ The good doctor was quiet for a time, absorbing everything.  She knew that the commanders were both on tenterhooks with each other, playing nice in front of their son and screaming each other down behind closed doors.  Considering she was the one who took care of psych evaluations for Overwatch and Blackwatch, she knew all too well of Gabriel’s fraying mental state.  She was only too aware of Jack’s near-constant state of hyper-vigilant anxiety and strain.  Despite all that, it still surprised her somewhere deep down that their strife had come to blows.  It surprised her a little bit less that the volatile Omega had been the one to throw the first punch. _

 

_ She had a level of respect for him still, though, especially when he could see the signs of the end and was taking such active measures to safeguard his child.   It wasn’t in her to deny him. _

 

_ “I promise you I will check in on him, Gabriel,” She didn’t reach out and touch him, not wanting to make him feel coddled. _

 

_ Something loosening in the set of his shoulders told her she’d made the right decision. _

 

_ “Is there anything else you need?” _

 

_ Gabriel hid the neatly trimmed scruff of his mouth behind a balled fist, looking deeply conflicted.  He was silent, his eyes burning from under his heavy brow.   _

 

_ He set his hand down on the table slowly as if it was taking all his willpower not to slam it down in one swoop, “Yeah.  No matter how this all goes down...don’t let this be the way he remembers me, alright? Just...don’t.” _

 

_ Words spoken like a man who knew he was going down in an ugly way. _

 

_ Put in context of everything that came after, the words still sent a chill down Angela’s spine to the present day. _

 

__________

 

The night had drawn in all around the farm house by the time Angela had gotten settled in and finished up her annual medical with Ira.  They’d kept talk mostly light while in Jack’s family home (his sister out as she always took care to be during their little reunions, giving her nephew some space).  

 

She’d asked him if he’d presented yet when she drew his blood.   He’d said no, mouth quirking into a moue of distaste.  She’d laughed and assured him he was a late bloomer and his peculiar genetics probably didn’t help.  Give it time, she had said, and he’d have the pick of whoever he chose, she was sure.

 

She’d asked about what he was thinking of doing now that he was out of high school while she took his blood pressure.  She was only glad that the cuff wasn’t on her arm when he replied that he’d been thinking about the Army.  The lump in her throat was carefully repressed when he told her he’d been taking lessons at the gun range and his scores were getting good enough he was starting to attract attention from the local recruiters.  Her heart sunk when he’d chuckled gently, full of self-deprecation, musing over whether it was really his scores or the Morrison-Reyes name drawing attention.

 

She’d answered what questions she could when he curiously asked after Genji and the others while she ran a scanner over him, looking for anything she couldn’t find through old fashioned means.  She dropped what hints she could without giving away any news of the Recall, her heart aching that she had to hold that much back from him, couldn’t let him into their world again.  It hurt because it should have been his world too, but after all he’d been through so young, he at least deserved a passing glance at normal.  Even though it killed her not to let him know his old friends and mentors were alive and well and fighting the good fight, she kept Ira on the good side of the law, shutting him firmly out.

 

At last, the crickets song had replaced the droning hum of mid-day cicadas and the sun had sunk low enough for Ira to call it a night.  Before he’d left Angela alone with her figures, facts, and data, the young man paused near the foot of the stairs.  He regarded her with an impossibly blue stare, soft and full of affection, “Miss Angie?”

 

“Yes?” she asked, looking up from her readouts.

 

“Are you going to be stopping by Arlington on your way back?” His voice was soft, barely carrying in the evening still.

 

She hadn’t planned on it, but there was something that spoke of longing in the young man’s eyes that she couldn’t bear to shatter, “I certainly could.”

 

“Would you mind saying hey to my parents for me? I haven’t been out to see them in awhile.”

 

“...Of course, Ira,” she soothed once she caught her breath from the request.

 

A sudden thought came to her and she reached for her data pad, holding it up and smiling brightly, “We should have something for them, ja? Smile.  I will print it out later.’

 

Brightening considerably, Ira swept a curl out of his face and flashed a Victory V at the camera lense of her pad, all freckles and enthusiasm.  He cut a rough and ready picture in his smudged white t-shirt and threadbare jeans, boots still on his feet, big and clunky.  Even in the summer heat he wore his mother’s old uniform coat, both his parents’ insignias displayed as flashes on one arm.  Despite his work, a barely-curl fell across his forehead and she was pretty sure there was a grease stain under the eye that wasn’t bruised.  It was perfect.

 

Now she sat alone in the quiet house with the picture in front of her.  She would print a single copy and take it to Arlington with her in the days to come.  She would take a stone and use it to pin the picture on top of Gabriel Reyes’ modest grave, where she knew it would disappear only moments after she turned her back to leave.  The other would be sent in an encrypted file along with all of her medical findings to a certain soldier in Gibraltar, all the evidence that they had a fledgling super soldier in the making, with a single message.

 

“He’s going to be alright.”

 

___________

 

Author’s Notes

  * How did this happen.  I wanted to write ridiculous Overwatch kid-fic in my spare time, and here I am two days and almost 10,000 words later.  Why can’t I write simple things?
  * There was so much more I wanted to include.
  * Jack and Gabe’s kid’s full name is “Ira Morrison-Reyes” after the Spanish double-barreled naming tradition.
  * As of this story, Ira is 19 on the cusp of 20.
  * This story takes place very soon after the recall.
  * I messed with the timelines a bit for this.  While we know that Jack led Overwatch for 20 years in canon, I shortened it down to 10 here.  We’ll say that the volatility of a child sped up the breakdown a bit.
  * For this continuity, Angela is aware of who Reaper and 76 are.
  * Though it isn’t discussed in this fic, I hold that Angela Ziegler would be an Alpha or a very, very tough Beta.
  * For anyone wondering, military children can live on or near a base depending on the nature of the aforementioned base.  I grew up in Japan on an American Naval base.
  * Please forgive my broken awful Spanish.  It comes from crap translators and Spanish friends yelling at me far too often.
  * I’ll probably beta read this later and be horrified by my mistakes then.  I’ll probably even write more of it.  Thank you all so much for reading and I love you, my fellow OverNerds.
  * This all came out of the fact that I insist on calling Jack "Hoosier Daddy" because I think I'm funny.  No.  I'm not sorry.  




End file.
